Author's Note: This is a departure from my Labyrinthine/Serenus/Fata Morgana universe. This was actually the first story I started writing back in June before Labyrinthine came to me. I was re-reading the first couple of chapters I wrote back then and decided I really liked it and wanted to go forth and publish. There are some minor similarities between this and Labyrinthine, but it's definitely a different twist on the Emily/Derek relationship.

When I started writing this, I was going through a Bob Dylan phase, thus the title. If you haven't listened to "Tangled Up in Blue" before, you should (though I'll say the best cover of this song is done by the Indigo Girls, even better than Mr. Dylan himself, in my opinion). And though the weaving story of that song doesn't directly relate to this story, it metaphorically matches.

Enjoy!

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August 2014

Emily Prentiss sat up in the bed and stood to retrieve her clothes that were scattered about the bedroom. She pulled her underwear and pants on first, then sat on the edge of the bed to put on her bra. The whole time, she felt his eyes on her. She'd just gotten her blouse on and was starting on the first button when he spoke in his lilting British accent.

"It's one o'clock in the morning, and there goes Emily running off again," said Clyde Easter.

She turned to look at him, "You know this isn't about snuggling after sex. I'm more comfortable at home."

"I know, Emily. I didn't say anything about snuggling, but you could just get some sleep."

"I'll get some sleep in my own bed," she said while putting on her socks. There was silence for a few beats while she reached for her shoes.

"You should call him," said Clyde.

Emily's head snapped around to stare at him in shock. "What? Who?"

Clyde sighed and gave her a half grin while shaking his head. "I've infiltrated for the past six months and I'm ready to give my profile."

"Don't you profile me," she said firmly.

"Too late. I've been your fuck-buddy doppelganger for the past six months. You stay right there and listen. You owe me that much."

Emily's eyes flashed in anger as she surveyed Clyde, but she stayed there to listen, stunned into immobility, quite certain she didn't want to hear what he had to say.

Clyde nodded once at her, glad he had her attention, before he spoke. "Back in February, you flew off in our jet to DC to help JJ. I'm glad you did it and I'm glad she's safe. When you came home, we had dinner together and you told me the story. I asked you about how the members of the BAU were doing and you told me happy stories about every member, except one. When I asked you how Derek Morgan was doing, you told me he had a girlfriend named Savannah and seemed really happy. You practically choked on your food getting out that one sentence, though you tried to cover it. Then you started pounding your drinks. And that night, despite the fact that I'd known you for fifteen years, and had tried to get in your pants for a few of them at the beginning without success, you invited me up to your flat. And we screwed like bunnies that night. And you could barely contain your tears the entire time, though you tried to cover that up and hoped I didn't notice. How am I doing so far?"

Emily's eyes welled with tears, but she didn't say anything.

Clyde nodded again. "We've got this no-strings-attached thing going, and I've got to tell you it's been the best no-strings-attached fling I've ever had, because you seriously do not want anything emotionally from me at all, and that's good because that's all I want. But that's not a way to live, at least for you, even if you don't believe it. Twice now, when there's been a tremendous amount of alcohol involved, you've said the name "Morgan," when we've had sex. Did you know that? And as completely fucking weird I find it that you used last names in bed, or whatever you two were up to, I think that speaks volumes. You should call him."

Emily stared at him in pure anger and didn't let the tears fall. She spoke in a harsh whisper, "Derek Morgan and I haven't had anything going on since the day after I learned Doyle escaped. And even before that, it wasn't anything significant. It was just like this."

"Really? And if I told you this was over tomorrow, would you be shedding tears for me and trying to forget me by screwing someone else as a distraction to keep your heart from breaking into pieces?"

"Fuck you, Clyde," said Emily while she stood up.

"You already did, Emily," he said, somewhere bordering between care and smugness.

She flipped him off before walking towards the bedroom door. Then she paused with her hand on the door knob. "Hotch called me two weeks ago and asked me if I wanted to come back, and I did, but I couldn't. There wasn't anything going on with Derek and me for almost two years before I moved here. I'm the one who left and he's happy. I can't call him and spoil that in any way. He deserves to be happy. I need to live with that the best way I can."